


Draw Another Goblet

by stateofintegrity



Category: Rush (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6992395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex and Geddy head to wine country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draw Another Goblet

The lights in the local tavern were low and pear colored, a wine country sunset that turned the guitarist’s hair a bewitching harvest moon shade. Geddy Lee felt as though the color was imprinted on him, carried in his eyes even when he looked away. Even after all of their years together as best friends, bandmates, and lovers, Alex could still dazzle him – without doing anything at all. Lifting a wide-rimmed goblet to his mouth he swallowed the dark vintage inside – Alex’s choice – and silently toasted the powers that weren’t for all of his blessings. Highest on the list was the man across the table from him, watching him with a gentle smile.

            “You look so… light,” he told his dark-haired darling. “Glad we took this trip?”

            Geddy surveyed the room, eyes moving from the dark rafters to the windows that looked out on some of the world’s premier grape arbors – California’s wine country. “It’s just so nice,” the singer answered. “Not to be recognized. Not to be known. We’re locals here.”

            Everyone they’d met had taken them for seasonal workers, come for the grape harvest and the wine pressing, moving on in a few weeks to Florida orange groves or Mexico’s lemon orchards. Both the waitress and the hostess had admired their purpled fingers, their juice-stained clothing. Alex drew his fingers to his lips, conceding that there were certain benefits to anonymity. “We could give it all up, you know,” he offered, ever the generous spirit. “Move here.”

            A wry smile flickered across Geddy’s mouth. “You think Pratt would be okay with that?”

            Alex’s grin was knowing. “Please. He threatens to quit before every single tour. He’d rejoice to find out that we became grape growers.”

            Geddy allowed himself to fantasize for a moment. With his wine collection they probably wouldn’t make money at their new career, but they were successful enough that it didn’t matter. He imagined coming home to the same place day after day, skin browned with spending time among the grapes, hands callused from something other than bass strings. And Alex, touching him with wine-stained hands… “Could you give up the music?” he heard himself ask, as if from far away.

            “We’d still play together, I figure.” He caught and held his eyes. “I’d give up guitar before I ever gave you up.” He squeezed his hands. “If this is what you want, I’ll do it, Dirk.”

            Green, mischievous eyes flicked toward the exit. “I like our life, Lerxst. But let’s get out of here. Then I can show you what I really want.”

            Laughing, Alex got to his feet, eager to return to the villa they’d rented in the California hills.  

 

His body was sore with picking grapes and preparing wine, packing crates of bottles and carrying away dead vines to be burned. It had been a fun and interesting experience, but the sight of the villa was a welcome one. He wanted to know what Geddy’s smile hinted at. The door hadn’t entirely closed behind them, and the only light came from the red-gold strip of sunset at the edge of the dark hills, but all that the guitarist knew was the feel of a hand at his neck, tangling in his hair, and another at his waist, tugging him forward until heat met with heat. Giving a low sound of approval, he ground against his longtime lover. “You didn’t have to let all that tension build up,” he teased. “You could have had me in the fields.”

            He knew his words excited his partner, because those clever, note-picking fingers suddenly became too clumsy, or too frantic, to undo the buttons on his jeans. He might have backed off then, or seen to the buttons on his own, but he liked to make Geddy squirm. The gentle bassist had undone him enough times with that silver voice of his and the yearning in his eyes. He went on, “I thought about it all day, you know. Pushing you down behind those wine crates. Letting you ride me behind the arbor vines. You would have tastes sweeter in my throat than all of those wine samples.”

            Geddy sank to his knees in answer, eyes dark, and wrapped his mouth around his lover’s denim-sheathed length. The strength of his response made the guitarist gasp in answer; his mouth burned even through the fabric. Still, he liked the game they were playing too well to end it so quickly. “You want it that bad, huh?” he asked, trying to keep the strain from his voice. He reached down and touched the singer through his clothes. “Are you hard for me, Dirk? Wet?”

            He rocked against his teasing fingers in answer, unashamed to show such naked need. But his fingers had regained their purchase, and soon drew the guitarist’s slippery length out of his pants and into his sweetly sucking mouth. Usually, the guitarist would have had the presence of mind to push his pants past his hips and step out of them, but Geddy was blowing him too good for such subtleties, and he didn’t dare move for fear of losing his place in the warm damp. When the bassist pushed his thighs apart he thought he would lose it, but his legs only trembled.

            He tried to hold onto Geddy’s shoulders, but his fingers clenched and tangled in his dark hair. Once, he even forced his head down until he had taken him to the root, but then the singer’s tongue flicked out to lap at his balls. He cried out at that subtle, fiery touch and drew up. Geddy let him slow the pace and recover – for a moment. But then he was squeezing and sucking and stroking at once and the motions of his mouth and his fingers and his tongue blurred into a single blissful sensation. Screaming praise and pleasure in a single breath, Alex gave himself over to shooting again and again. Though fluttering lashes, he saw the motions of his partner’s throat and was finished by them.

            Still fully clothed, Geddy was far from finished. Still shaking, Alex looked up into his eyes and moaned aloud at the hunger there. Though usually gentle, there was nothing submissive about the singer, and everything in his slight, intoxicating frame projected confidence, control. Responding to his need, Alex became the consummate entertainer. Standing slowly and hardening as he stood, he lay back on the bed, arms above his head. By the time that he’d spread his legs, lifting them enough to give Geddy a glimpse of that tight hole, the singer was naked, and slick with need.

            Geddy smiled down on his beautiful exhibitionist, wondering how many wonderful times they’d played this game before. Over their years on the road they’d made love in all the usual places – hotel rooms and dressing rooms and backstage on equipment boxes. In the early days they’d pleased and teased each other under covers in the backseat of their much-abused van – with Pratt grumbling at them from the driver’s seat. Mouth open, he remembered the time Alex had lifted him up onto the Orbit Room bar. Knees pointed at the ceiling, legs on the guitarist’s shoulders, he’d received the fucking of a lifetime afterhours in the empty bar. His onstage dryers had proved pretty entertaining too, one night when the trucks had been parked and empty. Alex was still more than strong enough to lift him up and throw him down onto any convenient surface – though they always ended laughing about it afterwards. In their need for each other they were still like teenagers – easily overwhelmed, delighted to lose themselves one in the other. It was a wonder that no one but their drummer had ever caught them at their night (and day!) play.

“Care to share what you’re thinking about up there?” Alex asked sweetly.

            Geddy leaned down to claim his lips in a gentle kiss. “Sorry. Thanks for being patient with me. I was just thinking about us… all the places we’ve made love. What would my life have been without you, Alex?”

            “Boring,” the boyish guitarist replied with a smile. “You never would have learned how flexible you are.”

            “There a request in there?”

            Low laughter rumbled through his muscled chest. “Are you kidding? My whole body is a request right now. Fuck me, babe.” His blue eyes glittered. “Unless you’ve got something else in mind?”

            He gripped his swollen cock, fingers tightening just behind the head. He groaned softly at the feelings coursing through him. “One of these days you’re going to say something like that and I’m going to just come. Then what will you do?”

            Long lashes fluttered, ultra coy. “I’d be flattered.” He stretched and Geddy couldn’t help but chuckle. Alex often took the phrase “show ‘em your stuff,” to new heights – and lengths, too! “Didn’t you know I used to use tapes of that voice of yours to get off?”

            He swallowed, suddenly unable to speak. “N-no. I didn’t know that.”

            He twisted against the bed, using his body to persuade the singer to come down and enter him. “Used to pretend all those sweet little noises you made were for me.”

            His fingers tightened on his cock, going pale. “You did inspire those ‘uh-huhs’ in Victory.”

            The guitarist’s grin would have forced the Cheshire cat out of his tree in shame. “I remember. Neil’s still suspicious that we didn’t use an engineer.”

            His voice was too tight. “They were just background vocals,” he managed.

            “And that red recording light gave us all the privacy we needed. Nice to know you can sound so good with my mouth around your cock,” he said, smiling wickedly. “Makes me wish we could do it onstage.”

            Groaning, Geddy gave in. He knew that if he listened any longer he was going to come, and he knew just where he wanted to be when that happened. Delighting in this one little victory, Alex opened his legs wider and wiggled against the head of his cock. “That’s right, baby,” he urged, “fill me up.” His sweet, provocative words made Geddy pulse against him and he whimpered with want, knowing how big his partner would feel inside of him. 

            Reaching down, Geddy aligned his head with the guitarist’s opening and ground against him, smearing his entrance with hot honey. Alex clenched his teeth. He wanted to take control, to force the head inside and end this excruciating play. Geddy smiled above him and the guitarist knew that he was being repaid for his earlier verbal teasing. Now _he_ was the one who wanted it bad, and the singer was going to make him work for it. Well, two could play at that game. Kissing and suckling Geddy’s throat, he moaned for him and begged to feel him come inside of him. His words went straight to the singer’s cock, pushing more fluid from the tip. Still, Alex won so many of their little battles – in and out of bed. To give in all at once would only encourage him.

            So, instead, he gave him the barest inch, barely putting the head in up past the fold of the mushroom hood. Alex moaned his frustration, moving back and forth to try to take him in deeper. “Dirk!” he cried, desperate and frustrated. “Did you forget the meaning of the work ‘fuck!?’”

            The singer laughed. “Leave it to you to be a comedian even in the middle of sex!”

            “This isn’t sex – it’s torture!” Alex complained, hands gripping his ass, urging him on.

            Taking pity on him, the bassist shut him up with a single solid thrust – hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs and make him forget his complaints. Responding, Alex almost doubled up, abs clenching. “Oh God!”

            The second thrust was softer, but just as sure. Years of lovemaking had taught him every contour of his lover’s body, and he wanted to be deep. Alex writhed under him, the muscles in his thighs bunching as he lifted himself, begging as much with his body as with his voice. The sight of him so wound up, so undone, thrilled the singer and he thrust harder, faster. Fingers dug into the sheets, Alex sobbed his name and prayed for the second orgasm he felt building deep in his balls. He couldn’t remember the last time Geddy had ridden him so good, but he refused to credit that torturous, teasing foreplay – not when he still so desperately wanted release.

            He knew exactly what would give it to him, and drew Geddy’s mouth to his in a kiss. The sweetness of the gesture in the midst of their frantic coupling made his green eyes open. Staring into them, Alex could only beg. “Do it, please. Come in me, Geddy.”

            Shaken by his request, by the look and the sound and the feel of him, the singer made a laughing-sobbing sound and spilled deep. Shuddering, Alex rubbed one last time against his abs, then flowed over his thighs and stomach. When he was finally able to balance himself on his hands and knees, Geddy looked down and saw the same sparks dying in his own eyes reflected in those of his lover. “You’re beautiful,” he told his sex-disheveled darling.

            “So are you,” he licked his lips, “Especially all covered in me. I think we made less of a mess trampling those grapes.”  
            “This was more fun. What do you say to a shower, then wine in the hot tub.”

            Alex’s eyes gleamed with a sudden and surprising darkness. “I dunno. You could be starting something dangerous, Dirk, my love.”

            The singer stood with a sly smile. “I can hope.”

            Following him into the next Bacchanalian playground, Alex was all smiles.

 

The End!

             


End file.
